


ALT MAG 200 B

by wordsphoenix



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Georgie is Alex's favorite babysitter, Jon hypothesizing about his death, M/M, Open Ending, Very Emotion, episode format, except now they're married and have a kid, extreme flangst, includes original statement, mentions of Georgie and the Admiral ofc, much flangst, they stop Jimbob Mango but nothing else changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:40:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27221377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsphoenix/pseuds/wordsphoenix
Summary: Martin and John continue to sift through the backlog of statements accumulated during the tail end of their quarantine closure.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Kudos: 8





	ALT MAG 200 B

**Author's Note:**

> cw for Jon talking about his death, like, kind of a lot

[INT TSJ INSTITUTE, MARTIN’S OFFICE, 2021]

[TAPE RECORDER CLICKS]

MARTIN

Are you sure? You’ve been looking a bit unwell lately.

JOHN

Yes, Martin, I’m sure. I did one yesterday.

MARTIN

I know you don’t like them, but you promised me you’d-

JOHN

( _laughs_ ) Really, Martin, I’m fine. I even ate breakfast this morning.

MARTIN

( _sighs_ ) If you still look this bad you’re doing one later. No arguments.

JOHN

( _exasperated, fond_ ) Are you ever going to trust me to know my own limits?

MARTIN

You’d better hope I don’t.

JOHN

Alright, alright. Boss.

MARTIN

Yes, of course, Archival Assistant.

JOHN

( _snorts_ ) Wasting tape, you know.

MARTIN

Not like we’re going to run out, but okay. ( _clears throat_ ) Statement of Indigo Cummings, regarding-

[KNOCK ON DOOR]

BASIRA

Delivery.

MARTIN

Oh?

BASIRA

The Admiral had an appointment.

JOHN

( _mildly horrified_ ) Forgot that was today.

BASIRA

If you’d remembered, you’d have been at home. Which is apparently where they went before dropping him here.

ALEX

Papa! Auntie Melanie dropped me off. She said for the best papa in the world you sure were an idiot.

JOHN

That about sums it up.

ALEX

I don’t think you’re an idiot.

JOHN

( _quietly_ ) Thank you, Alex.

MARTIN

You know, John, if you’d done a statement this morning-

JOHN

Tomorrow at the latest, I promise.

MARTIN

( _sighs_ ) Thank you, Basira.

BASIRA

If either of you charged your phones-

JOHN

( _outraged_ ) My phone is always charged!

BASIRA

Whatever you say, old man.

[ALEX GIGGLES]

MARTIN

You know, you could stop flipping people off when our son’s in the room.

JOHN

I could.

MARTIN

Never do that, Alex. Not unless someone deserves it. ( _sighs_ ) Right. Am I still doing this, or are you two leaving?

JOHN

I, um-

ALEX

I wanna stay!

MARTIN

Only if you’re quiet. ( _clears throat_ ) Statement of-

BASIRA

Sorry, what are you doing?

JOHN

Why are you still here?

BASIRA

To make sure this doesn’t happen. You know, I was never a child person, but if you’re going to read statements in front of a three-year-old, I’ll be taking him straight up back to Rosie, thank you.

JOHN

But-

MARTIN

She has a point.

BASIRA

Have a point? More like we should give him to Georgie and Melanie permanently.

[NOISES OF DISTRESS FROM JOHN AND MARTIN SIMULTANEOUSLY]

BASIRA

If one of you wants to leave, you can keep him.

ALEX

Why can’t I stay?

JOHN

Because your dad and I talk about very scary things and we don’t want you to have nightmares. You’re right, Basira, I- thank you.

BASIRA

Let’s go and see how many toys they’ve left upstairs for you.

ALEX

But I want to stay with papa and…

[RETREATING FOOTSTEPS]

JOHN

( _sighs_ ) So maybe you’re right. But I still don’t- tomorrow. I can make it one more day.

MARTIN

Fine. But if you get sick again we should really consider-

JOHN

( _vehemently_ ) No. Never again.

MARTIN

( _quiet, apologetic_ ) Okay. ( _clears throat_ ) Statement of Indigo Cummings, regarding a haunting in her family home. Original statement taken via email, October 15th, 2020. Recording by Martin Blackwood, Head Archivist of the TSJ Institute.

Statement begins.

MARTIN (STATEMENT)

Before you decide to discredit everything I’m about to tell you as hallucinations, I implore you to check the attachments. I don’t know if you’ve got anyone on staff who can verify that these are untampered-with files, but if you do, please check them. All of the footage is unedited. I didn’t even rename the files, just in case. I would have rather come in person to tell you all this, but it sounds like you’re taking the health and safety of your employees more seriously than most of the planet, so all I can really do is send this email.

I want to preface the story by saying that, before this past year, I didn’t even believe in hauntings or ghosts or the supernatural or anything like that. Sure, aliens probably exist, but I’m not going to see them in my lifetime, you know? That was my attitude before May. And after May, well, let’s just say finding you has given me some peace of mind regarding my sanity.

Alright. I’ll set the scene for you. Deep in lockdown, I can work from home. Only go out for groceries, my house isn’t too small and I have a dog so I’m holding up pretty well. Now, I don’t live in the city, but I do live in a well-populated area. Populated enough I have to cross the street often on walks to avoid passing any maskless neighbors. What I mean is, if something weird is going on in the neighborhood, chances are somebody knows something about it, because we see each other often enough. That’s why I didn’t have any basis for my house being haunted. My family lived here before me and when I inherited the place last June I figured it’d be a nice change. I settled in, heard all the stories from family and neighbors alike. And what do you know? No hauntings. No paranormal activity. Not even any gas main breaks or other strange, potentially-dangerous happenings. Just something about the garage door getting stuck and half the street coming out to fix it. I live in a good neighborhood. If anyone noticed anything weird, they would have said something.

And I’d been living there almost a year. I knew all the creaking sounds, all the loose windowpanes and off-kilter door hinges. If anything, working from home just cemented it all in my mind. When you’re waiting for a package, which is the highlight of your day, and you hear a noise, you’re going to pay attention, you know? And I do have a dog, Marley, who barks at anything and everything that might be a potential threat. She’s good enough not to start yelling when a car pulls up, but I’d only have a few seconds’ lead if the package finally came. I guess I’m trying to say that I was on edge. Not crazy, or cooped up, just… a little jumpier than usual.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that, yes, I was on edge, but no, I wasn’t losing my mind. I was just sitting and working and Marley started barking all of a sudden. Frantic. Like she would bark at another animal that was threatening me. That’s only happened a few times. It’s a pretty distinctive bark. I checked the front window. No one was there. She had never done this for no reason. In eight years. Not once. I was about to go and check the back, see if there was someone trying to break in or it was an animal, when I heard a massive crash from upstairs.

I don’t really have a first floor. It’s just a half-finished attic. I keep my spare furniture up there and some storage bins. There isn’t anything that would make that noise except the old bureau falling over. So I thought, great. I don’t know how it happened, probably- house settling, or something. Fine. I pulled down the ladder and went up.

It wasn’t the bureau. One of the holiday bins had fallen onto the floor and open, spilling everything. There were bits of broken glass scattered all the way to the ladder. I almost cut myself coming up. I was completely sure I hadn’t left the bin in any sort of unstable spot. It had been stacked on top of another one, fitting perfectly in the grooves of the lid. And based on where it was on the floor, that’s where it had fallen from. Fine. Chalk it up to a gust of wind or something. I spent the next hour cleaning the attic while Marley sat at the bottom of the ladder, growling every once in a while. Not at me- just growling.

All in all I was annoyed, but not scared. If it was a draft Marley might have heard it, which would explain why she thought there was an animal in the attic. Everything had a logical answer. And for a while I believed that. For two weeks I believed that, until the next bin spilled. Same pattern- Marley freaking out and then me finding a shattered Christmas ornament bin.

The problem that second time was that the bin was really heavy. And sat on the floor. It would have been impossible for any normal blast of air to knock it over. At that point I thought I must be having a serious ventilation problem or something. The house was old. I knew that still didn’t explain the level of force that it would’ve taken to knock the bin over, but I was grasping for a normal explanation and that was the only thing I could come up with. There were two other bins in the attic, but these were more sentimental stuff, my parents’ ornaments, you know? So I decided to move them to the other side of the room, unstack them, just in case. There wasn’t anything else up there that could have fallen over apart from entire pieces of furniture- the bureau, an old chair, a dining table that was a bit too awkward for my kitchen- and the thought of wind knocking any of those over was absurd. I called someone to take a look at the house for energy efficiency issues, mentioned a draft in the attic, and tried to put it out of my mind for a few days while I waited for the inspector to show up.

He got there on time, went all around the inside and outside of the house measuring air currents or something, and then asked me where the draft was. I led him right to the spot. Nothing. He even went outside and checked the siding. Poor man had to stand on a ladder in the mud. I said it was fine, but he insisted. I was paying him all that money to come and do the inspection, and he was going to do it right. Of course, there was no draft registering from the outside, either.

The only thing wrong with the place was the kitchen window. So at least I’d got some advice out of it. No answers, though. No explanation as to how a three stone box of holiday trimmings had gotten dumped all over the floor, with enough force to completely shatter everything inside.

By that point I was alarmed, but not yet thinking it was supernatural. The inspector had confirmed that it’d be near-impossible for an animal to get in short of chewing through perfectly sturdy roofing or siding, which meant the only other thing it could be was a pest problem. I did my due diligence, called an exterminator. I knew it couldn’t have been rats. Didn’t know what else to do, though. He came, gave the place a clean bill of health, and I was right back to square one. Except now I’d ruled out the only logical possibilities I could.

The third time it was- well, let’s just say it was bad. I won’t sugarcoat it. My cabin fever was running high and despite the clear weather even a nice long walk with Marley didn’t make me feel any better. I was just about to give up trying to get any more work done when she started barking again. Loud, alarmed, like we were under attack, or at least threat. I went outside and did an entire circle around the house. Wasn’t like an animal had moved in under the porch since the exterminator checked, but I figured I’d at least catch a glimpse of there was something rooting through my trash or whatever. But no. No people in sight, and definitely no animals. Come to think of it, I didn’t even hear birds. I live near a little patch of trees, so that’s unusual. They should have been singing in the sun.

It wasn’t until I got back inside, had made it to the front room, where I worked, that the crash came. It sounded worse than the previous two times. Like more was broken. Or something bigger. I steeled myself and took down the ladder, expecting to find a crushed bureau blocking the way up. Except it wasn’t the bureau.

Both bins of Christmas heirlooms, all the things I’d got from my parents, were tipped over and dumped across the wooden floor, smashed to pieces. It wasn’t like before, like some strong force had knocked them enough to cause more damage than seemed possible. This time it was like they’d been tipped over and then picked up and thrown, violently, purposefully. And they weren’t in their original place, but at the complete opposite end of the room. Completely out of range if it was a draft, or a loose floorboard, or anything logical.

By this point I was pretty upset. Everything that had sentimental meaning to me short of a few photo albums and the house itself was destroyed, and there was no possible explanation for how. Well, except ghosts. But that’s ridiculous, right?

As I tried to find something to glue back together in the mess of glass, I heard a thump and looked down to see Marley on the ladder. Trying to climb up to me. I told her not to about six times before she sat and waited. Growling at nothing, every once in a while, while I finished my horrible work.

That night when I went to sleep and every one after, Marley lay not sprawled out somewhere near me in bed, but at the foot, facing the door. I didn’t get much sleep, anyway, so every time she heard something and went on alert I noticed. It was never anything I could hear.

This went on for a couple weeks. Her guarding the door and mounting inexplicable offenses throughout the night, me trying to sleep but mostly just observing.

When she flipped out again I didn’t wait. I pulled the ladder down, and her barking got louder. It was the middle of the day, mind, so even though it was probably stupid to go up alone I had the light on my side. Stupid, I know, but I had to see what was going on. I had to see when this thing- whatever it was- ruined another of my possessions a few feet away from me. I was going to catch it in the act.

Marley was barking so panicked and so loud that I knew I was going to see it. I made it up the first few steps, reached up to switch on the light just in case the window wasn’t enough, and then I was up there. With two other people.

I don’t really know how to explain this part. I’ll try my best even if it does make me sound crazy. There were two people standing in the attic, one on either side. They were staring at each other, looking furious, and when I popped up there both of them turned that fury on me. For a moment all I could do was stand there, taking it in, not liking that I had the low ground even though I was pretty certain, based on the fact I’d not left the house in days, that there was no way they could be real solid people, so the high ground probably didn’t mean anything, anyway.

Then they both turned back, not like I wasn’t there, but like, at the same second, they’d both decided to ignore me. And then they were screaming.

Terrible things. Accusations, it sounded like, bringing up past events in a desperate attempt to shout louder than the other. It was hard to make out because they were both yelling at once. I tried about three times to interject, with things like, “Hello,” and “excuse me,” and “what the fuck are you doing in my house,” but they didn’t pay me any attention. Just kept screaming.

I don’t know how long it went on. All I could think was that someone must have heard them. Any minute now there’d be police banging down my door, and then what would happen? Could they even see these- these things? I mean, they couldn’t be human. Humans didn’t sound like that. Like their voices were peeling back your skin and smashing directly against your skull.

That definitely sounds crazy, but I don’t know how else to describe it. It was agonizing. I could think, I could understand what was happening, but I couldn’t move. I don’t know if it was the pain or something else.

Finally one of them managed to get an edge- I don’t know how, I couldn’t really make out what they were saying by that point- and went over to the bureau and pushed it bodily in the other’s direction. The second it hit the floor they both vanished.

Cops got to my house about five minutes later. I told them I thought it was a home invasion, even though I couldn’t explain how I thought the invaders had gotten inside. I’d been within view of both the front and back doors the entire day, and when my windows are shut I keep them locked.

I took everything out of the attic. Bought a padlock for it and keep the key somewhere safe. Marley still barks at the ceiling, sometimes, or perks up when we’re in bed, but it isn’t like before. I’m thinking of moving.

Statement ends.

MARTIN

Well, that was… not reassuring. I’m not even sure how we got the email, to be honest. This was one of the batch Basira printed that day in before half our email statements got corrupted. Lucky, I guess. If luck even exists. And there’s a matching police report in here. A noise complaint for that last day, screaming, an argument, neighbors said it sounded like. Except nobody saw anyone but Ms. Cummings around the property. And a good number of them also said neither of the voices sounded like her. So that much is real, at least. Even if tape recorder hadn't tipped us off.

JOHN

D’you think it’s the Spiral?

MARTIN

I think that’s a good guess. Unless she’s got an actual poltergeist, which… ( _trails off doubtfully_ )

[JOHN LAUGHS]

MARTIN

Exactly. Still, I’m not sure if- well, if it is the Spiral, that’s five in the past week, and all of them recent enough to concern me.

JOHN

( _sighs_ ) Do you think we need to go out in the field again?

MARTIN

You don’t need to go anywhere. There’s plenty to do here.

JOHN

( _sighs again_ ) You know, you don’t need to act like I’m fragile.

MARTIN

( _defensively_ ) I’m not. I’m treating you like you’re… well, like you’re ill, which you are.

JOHN

I’m fine.

MARTIN

( _quietly_ ) You haven’t been fine for a long time.

JOHN

 _(restrained)_ We’ve talked about this. At length.

MARTIN

And we’re going to keep talking about it until you start being reasonable.

JOHN

I am being reasonable. Didn’t I- I mean, I did three before the last time we went out, and I was fine.

MARTIN

You weren’t, though. Your knee hasn’t been the same since.

JOHN

Maybe Basira’s right. Maybe I’m just getting old.

MARTIN

( _pleading_ ) We’ve got enough help now. Please, John. Let me take care of this.

JOHN

And what happens when it’s more dangerous than we thought?

MARTIN

Then he’ll have you.

JOHN

We’ve been over this, Martin. We have time. But I don’t know how much-

MARTIN

You’re not going to die, John. You’ve made it this far.

JOHN

We’re all going to die someday, Martin. I’m just trying to make sure our son doesn’t end up more of an orphan than I was.

MARTIN

( _anguished_ ) I don’t know why you insist on doing this.

JOHN

I’m being realistic.

MARTIN

You’re being at best morbid and at worst harmful to your chances of seeing him graduate primary school.

JOHN

( _laughs_ ) So you don’t think I’ll-

MARTIN

John!

JOHN

I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it’s- it’s the fatigue. It makes me- you know what it does to me.

MARTIN

Right. Yeah.

JOHN

I really am sorry.

MARTIN

You know, sometimes I feel like- sometimes I feel like you won’t make up your mind. Whether you want me to think you’re weak or strong.

JOHN

I don’t want you to think anything. I want you to trust me.

MARTIN

( _gently_ ) That’s easier to do when I don’t have to worry about you.

JOHN

( _fond_ ) You’ll always worry about me.

MARTIN

I know. ( _sniffles_ ) God, I can’t believe I married you sometimes.

JOHN

( _smiling_ ) Yes, you can.

MARTIN

( _smiling_ ) Yes I can. Now come on. Let’s go and hang out with our kid. Get some of this… get a reset.

JOHN

I’ll be up in a minute.

MARTIN

You know I could just help you.

JOHN

I know. But there’s something I need to do, anyway.

MARTIN

You’re not going to-

JOHN

No, I’m not going to do something stupid. I’m going to call Georgie and apologize.

MARTIN

Alright. See you in a minute.

[RETREATING FOOTSTEPS]

[FUMBLING SOUNDS]

JOHN

George, it’s me, I- no- yes, but- no, I’m going to- tomorrow, I’ll do one tomorrow, alright, I’m sorry I- you know if you let me apologize I might actually stop interrupting- no, that’s great, that’s great news, I’m glad he’s doing well. Yes. I’ll see you in a few days.

[PHONE BEING SET ON DESK]

JOHN

Right. Well, I told you I wasn’t going to do anything stupid, and I’m not. Because this isn’t stupid. It’s morbid, yes, okay, fine, but it isn’t stupid.

I just wanted to say that I love you. And that I want you to know, no matter what happens, that I’m doing my best, Martin. I’m trying. I’m going to wring every possible moment I can out of this place. Out of life. Spend as much time with you and Alex as I can before- well, I said morbid, not self-destructive. And I do agree with you, you know. On most things. Even if I want to deny myself for too long like, and I quote, ‘a stubborn old fool.’ We aren’t that old, you know. Not yet. No matter what my gray hair implies.

Anyway. I love you. And I love you, Alex, if your dad ever lets you hear this. I hope he does. You deserve to know where you got your reckless streak from, and it certainly wasn’t him.

[DISTANT THUD]

Christ, I hope that was Martin. No, I mean- you know what I mean, I hope you haven’t just given yourself a concussion, Alex, which I’m amazed hasn’t happened already given how often you jump off the furniture-

[TAPE RECORDER CLICKS]


End file.
